Gladiator Page 3

  He didn’t get it, and he never would. “I don’t want to end up like her.”

  Wilder remained composed, but a hint of irritation was shining through. “Why do you keep living in the future instead of the present? You want something? Just take it. If you keep going about your life like that, you’re going to miss out on a lot of experiences.”

  “And heartbreak.”

  He stepped closer to me, his hands by his sides. “Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.” He repeated the line from Mark Twain perfectly like he just read it last week.

  Now I liked him even more.

  Goddammit.

  “Why did you leave with me?” I asked. “You could have stayed with her, a guaranteed lay.”

  “Because I like you—really like you.” He put his hands in his pockets as he came closer to me on the sidewalk. The nighttime air was chilling, but he didn’t seem cold in the thin-sleeved shirt he wore. “I like the fact you don’t care what anyone thinks of you. Your confidence is sexy. And of course, I think you’re gorgeous.”

  My body wanted to jump into that car, and now my mind was leaning toward the same thing.

  “And after I kissed you in that grocery store… I haven’t stopped thinking about it.” He said all of this without looking away or shifting his weight. He was comfortable in his own skin. He could say anything without regret.

  The cold wind blew through my hair, and my nose started to sting.

  Wilder knew he wasn’t going to get his way, and he knew I was cold. “Let me take you home.” He put his arm around my waist, and it was a snug fit. His hand reached the front of my stomach. He guided me to the car and opened the door again.

  I liked it when he touched me.

  I got into the passenger seat and watched him shut the door. The car smelled new, and all the gadgets in the center console looked intimidating. There was a black briefcase behind the driver’s seat.

  Wilder sat beside me and started the car by touching a button. He cranked the heat and pointed the vents at me so I would be comfortable. Then he pulled onto the road and drove. “Where to?”

  I gave him the address.

  He kept his eyes on the road and didn’t initiate conversation. He didn’t seem angry that nothing would happen tonight. He didn’t even seem disappointed. He drove down the icy streets until he reached the suburbs where I lived. He pulled up to the sidewalk in front of my house and stared at it.

  The lawn was covered with snow, and the lights were on in the house. The wraparound porch had patio furniture, but it was covered in plastic because of the weather.

  He watched it before he turned his gaze on me. “You have a nice place.”

  “Thanks.” I stared at the front door but didn’t get out.

  “You live alone?”

  “I live with my father.”

  He didn’t ask why.

  “My mom passed away five years ago. I don’t want to leave him alone in that big house…” I didn’t know why I was telling him that. I didn’t talk about that sort of thing with anyone—even my dad. He never mentioned my mom, and I assumed it was just too hard—even now.

  “I’m sorry.” He only said two words, but they seemed sincere. His eyes were still glued to my face.

  “Thanks.”

  He didn’t ask how she passed. He was quiet for a while. “Are you in school?”

  I never gave much thought to his age, but I knew he was older than me. By how much, I wasn’t sure. “Yeah. I’m a junior in college.”

  “Cool. What are you studying?”

  “Right now, forensic DNA. But that could change.”

  “Indecisive?”

  “Very,” I said. “I’ve changed my major five times. At this rate, I’m never going to graduate. When I was a freshman, I was a psychology major. But that was too boring so I changed it to history…and so on.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you’re into it that much.”

  “I’m not,” I said honestly. I faced forward and let the conversation continue. Our conversation was nice, and not just because we were talking about me.

  “Then why are you doing it?”

  “I don’t know what else to do with my life.” That was the honest truth. “I’m not particularly passionate about anything. I’m jealous of people who know what they love. Since I don’t have a goal, I don’t have a purpose.”

  “Maybe you’ll find it in college.”

  “I don’t know… I’m running out of majors.”

  He released an involuntary chuckle. “You’ll find yourself eventually. I was lost for a long time before I found my way. Sometimes the road presents itself in the oddest way you can imagine. Just make sure your eyes are always open.”

  I turned to him and watched him stare down my street. “What do you do?”

  “I run a few investment companies.” His tone was curt and short, like he didn’t want to talk about it or encourage any more questions.

  I knew he was well off just by the car alone. I didn’t ask any more questions about his professional career. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight,” he answered. “You must be twenty-one, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  He nodded before he turned my way. “You like older men?” A slight smile was on his lips.

  “I like you.” The words flew out of my mouth like they had wings.

  That smile slowly faded.

  “What do you do for fun?” I asked the question before it could become any more tense.

  “Fun?” he asked. “I’m not even sure what that means.”

  “What do you do when you aren’t working?”

  He considered my words quietly. “Well, I just got a PlayStation. That’s pretty cool.”

  “Have you played Fallout 4?”

  A slight grin stretched his lips. “Actually, that’s what I’m playing now.”

  “I beat it last week. It’s good.”

  “You play video games?”

  “Sometimes,” I answered. “When I don’t want to do schoolwork—which is pretty much all the time.”

  The smile didn’t fade. “A chick that plays video games… Pretty cool.”

  “What else do you do?”

  He shrugged. “I work out pretty often.”

  No way. “But that’s not for fun. That’s just torture.”

  “I like it.”

  “Then you’re a freak.”

  Instead of being insulted, he looked amused. “You work out too. You wouldn’t have a body like that if you didn’t.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. It escaped my lips and sounded loud in the car.

  “What?”

  “You’ve seen my grocery list. You think I have a workout regime?”

  “You must do something.”

  “I walk a lot. I walk everywhere.”

  “Then there’s your answer.”

  “Do you have any siblings?” I wanted to know all the stupid stuff that didn’t matter. Wilder was fascinating to me. I found myself wanting to know more, and not because I wanted that body on top of mine.

  He grew tense, just the way he did when I asked about his career. “No.”

  “Only child?”

  His eyes left my face and he stared at the light coming from the center console. “Can I walk you to your door?”

  I didn’t want to leave. I was already growing attached to him when there was no reason to. “I can make it.” I undid my safety belt.

  “Can I come in?” He watched my face and hoped for the right answer. “Assuming your father isn’t home.”

  “He’s not.”

  Wilder’s expression didn’t change.

  I wanted to invite him inside, but the logical part of me was holding back. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “You can ask me anything,” he said quietly. “But there’s no guarantee I’ll answer
.”

  “Do you do the girlfriend thing?” I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear it. When I did, I would be able to walk away from him without looking back. Being reminded of the danger would keep my guard up.

  He held my gaze without blinking. “No.” There was no remorse in his voice, like he didn’t even wish that wasn’t his answer. He didn’t blink as he watched my expression. “Relationships aren’t suitable for me. They never have been and they never will be.”

  I was disappointed even though I’d been anticipating that response. “Isn’t that lonely?”

  “Sometimes,” he said. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

  I wanted to know why. I wanted to know everything. But I knew he would never tell me.

  Wilder waited for me to ask something else, and when I didn’t, he spoke. “So, can I come in?” He asked the question even though he knew the answer.

  I thought this conversation would give me the desire to stay away from him, but it didn’t make any difference. I still wanted him as much as before, and I wished I didn’t. Why did I only want the ones I couldn’t have? “No.”

  Wilder masked his disappointment. “Good night, Gray.”

  I opened the door. “Good night, Wilder.”

  Chapter Four

  Dad came home from his trip. “Hey, honey. The house is still in one piece?” He set his bags on the couch, probably filled with secret agent gadgets and spyware.

  “It wasn’t. But I cleaned up before you came home.” I came around the couch and hugged him.

  He chuckled. “Well, that’s okay. As long as I can’t tell.”

  “How was London?”

  “Great,” he said. “I was in meetings most of the time but I managed to get some fish and chips.”

  “Were they as good as they claim?”

  “Definitely.”

  I wondered how dumb my father thought I was. He must think I’m really dense not to figure out what was actually going on. I didn’t know much about secret agents, but I knew they weren’t allowed to tell their family. So I just played along because it was easier for him. But my ignorance made him lazy. He didn’t try to hide things from me as much as he should. For instance, his plane ticket was sticking out of his bag and it said he just took a flight from Hong Kong.

  But like always, I pretended I didn’t notice.

  “What did you do while I was gone?”

  “I was accused of plagiarizing a paper. I had to go to the dean and everything.”

  Dad grew serious, his usual smile gone. “Everything okay?”

  “He let me go with a warning.”

  “He didn’t believe you?”

  It meant a lot that my dad assumed I hadn’t plagiarized. “No. But whatever.”

  “Not whatever,” he said. “I can talk to him.”

  “No.” I said it quickly and too loudly. I was always afraid if my dad got involved, he would murder them and make it look like an accident. Isn’t that what CIA operatives did? Didn’t they play by different rules? “Really, it’s fine. I’ll just have to be more careful.”

  “Well, if you need me, I’m here.”

  “I know, Dad.”

  He patted my shoulder and gave me a smile before he grabbed his bags from the couch. “Is there any food in this house?”

  “Pizza pockets.”

  “So, no.” He chuckled then walked into his bedroom. “I’ll pick something up later.”

  “I can go.”

  “No, it’s okay. You have studying to do.”

  “And plagiarizing, apparently.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t let it get you down. It’s just a bump in the road. You’ll get through it like always, Unicorn.”

  ***

  Dr. Phillips asked me to stay after class was dismissed.

  This should be fun.

  I approached her with a bored look on my face. My bag was over my shoulder, and I wanted to swing it at her.

  Dr. Phillips stood with her arms crossed over her chest like last time. “Since your last paper was disqualified, you’re going to do it again. It’s due tomorrow.”

  What did she just say? “You already gave me an F.” I was fine with that grade. Now I couldn’t get more than a C in the course, but whatever. I wasn’t planning on being the valedictorian or anything.

  “I realize that.”

  “I’m okay with that grade.” I turned to leave.

  “You’re going to redo the paper, and this assignment is worth eighty percent of your grade. Fail it, and you fail the course.”

  Could she really do that?

  An evil grin was on her lips, like she loved every second of this torment. “It’s due tomorrow morning.”

  I could just copy my old paper and redo the ‘plagiarized’ part.

  “This time, you’ll be writing about the Cold War.”

  Talk about a curveball.

  “Good luck,” she said. “And when I say it’s open notes, I don’t mean you can copy those notes.” She turned back to her desk, her smile still plastered on her face.

  She really expected me to finish a paper by tomorrow morning? If it wasn’t so late in the semester, I would just drop the course but that wasn’t an option anymore. I didn’t say a single word because I didn’t want to give her any satisfaction.

  ***

  “Stupid cunt,” I muttered under my breath as I got the key in the door. “Stupid fucking cunt.” The door opened, and I stepped inside. After the long day I had, I just wanted to play a video game then take a long nap.

  I was about to toss my bag on the table when I realized something was wrong. The house was different. The table wasn’t in its usual place. It was pushed slightly to the left like someone had bumped into it. The vase on the table in the hallway was on the ground, cracked and shattered into pieces.

  Something was wrong.

  My training kicked in and I was on alert. Instead of running away, I opened the nearby cabinet and retrieved a loaded pistol. I cocked it then pointed it at the ready. My father was home when I went to school so he could be in danger. I wasn’t going to leave and call the cops if he were passed out on the floor bleeding to death.

  I crept further into the house and tried to stay quiet. If someone was there, they probably already heard me come in. My feet avoided the weak places in the floorboard so it wouldn’t creak.

  I stopped when I heard a slight click, like something opened or closed. I held my breath as I listened for another noise. When nothing happened, I kept going. My finger was over the trigger, and I was ready to blow someone’s head off if I had to. I’d never killed anyone before, but I certainly had the ability.

  I stepped into the living room and quickly scanned the entire area. No one was lurking about. I approached the couch then pointed my gun over it, prepared for someone to be crouching.

  Instead, I saw a large pool of blood soaked into the white rug.

  Blood pounded in my ears.

  My knees grew weak.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  “Dad?”

  The sound of a car peeling out blasted in my ears. It was coming from the street. No one took off like that unless they were in a hurry. I sprinted out the front door and ran to my car at the curb. Down the road was a black Mustang, and it was hauling ass like someone was chasing it.

  My dad was in there. I knew it.

  I didn’t get a look at the license plate, and I didn’t have time to call the police anyway. Whoever took him wasn’t a typical criminal. They were a trained killer, judging by my father’s occupation. If I didn’t go after him, my father would never see the light of day again.

  I jumped into my Honda and hit the gas. I was a good driver, but I’d never been in a high-speed chase.

  I guess there was a first time for everything.

  I ran the stop sign and didn’t break as I turned the corner. The Mustang was in sight, but it was far ahead. With traffic and stop ligh
ts, it would be difficult to catch him.

  But that wouldn’t stop me from trying.

  I drove like a madwoman until we were out of the suburbs and into the city. He knew I was on his tail because he took unexpected turns and ran red lights. I followed him and exposed myself in the intersection. It was risky, and a truck almost hit me, but I couldn’t give in to the fear now. I was my father’s only hope. He wouldn’t give up on me, and I certainly wouldn’t give up on him.

  We hit another intersection and the light was red. An ambulance crossed the way, forcing the Mustang to stop. All the windows were tinted black so I couldn’t see a single thing. I cut off a car to get closer, and when I was near enough, I rolled down the window and took a shot.

  It hit the driver window, but it didn’t go through. It hardly made a dent.

  Shit.

  The Mustang maneuvered around the ambulance and took off again.

  Goddammit.

  I pursued him down the busy road, and it was a miracle the cops weren’t on us. The Mustang did a fancy maneuver and skidded to the right, going directly against traffic.

  Bastard.

  I took the right side and followed him with the flow of traffic.

  The cars coming his way pulled off the road when they saw him coming. They honked their horns and a few crashed into each other.

  “Is he suicidal?” I gripped the steering wheel until my fingers turned white. I accidentally bumped into a car I was passing and forced him off the road and onto the sidewalk.

  I didn’t have time to trade insurance details.

  When he reached the next block, he turned left.

  I hit a red light, and I couldn’t go because a semi was taking its sweet-ass time getting through the intersection. I slammed my hand into the wheel. “Motherfucker.” I hit my horn, even though it wouldn’t make a difference.

  By the time it was out of the way, I sped into the intersection, making everyone stop because of my crazy driving. I got onto the road and searched for the Mustang.

  I didn’t see it.

  I kept going and felt the panic settle in my chest. My eyes scanned every side street and every building. I didn’t see it anywhere.

  “Shit.”